


Sight

by KnifeFeatheredWings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, No Bashing, Seeing the Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-20 00:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15522000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnifeFeatheredWings/pseuds/KnifeFeatheredWings
Summary: A mysterious book in 12 Grimmauld Place's library reveals Hermione's Gift: the ability to see the past on anyone she touches. But before she even knows of her new power, she finds herself wondering how things got here: Sirius tossing and turning from nightmares, Snape stumbling along Hogwarts corridors, almost unable to walk. Can the brightest witch of her age cure wounds of past lives?





	1. Chapter One

“Hermione, you heard what Dumbledore said, we can’t tell him anything! Wha d’you think ‘d happen if someone got their hands on the letter?”

“Oh, honestly, Ron, it’s not as if I’m planning on sending Hedwig back with Headquarters’ address! But you know as well as me that if Dumbledore thinks Harry will just sit tight and twiddle his thumbs the summer after he _saw_ Voldemort come back, he’s got another think coming!”

It was the middle of July, and Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley were having their umpteenth argument of the day. Ever since they had moved into 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione had been adamant Harry be given some news- he had a right to know what was going on, and given their friend’s hot temper, sheltering him wasn’t going to prove very successful. Ron was inclined to agree with her, but he didn’t share her belief that even the mighty Albus Dumbledore could do wrong once in a while, and he certainly didn’t want to get on the headmaster’s nerves before term even began. 

“Fine. You’re right, I guess- I mean, if it was you two hiding things from me, I’d be pretty damn pissed, and that’s without him murdering my parents.” He shuddered at his words as he said them- with Voldemort back, everyone could feel a war getting closer, and nobody felt safe.

“Thanks, Ron. Well, we can’t tell him about the Order- I don’t think anyone not in it knows its even reformed, so it wouldn’t do for that to get out in the open… Maybe we could say that a lot of people are here and they’re taking steps to figure out what to do? But that’ll just get him angry that he can’t help..” sighing, she threw herself onto the bed and let herself sink into the mattress.

“What we need” said Ron from his place on the other side of the cramped room “is something You-Know-Who and his lot already know, or wouldn’t be able to use- though I wager anything they don’t care about Harry won’t really either. And there’s really no way anyone knows what You-Know-Who-“

Hermione sat up. “Snape.”

“Greasy git. What d’you have to bring him up for?”

“He would know, Ron.”

“‘Mione!”

“Well, think about it! You’re the one that always jumps to call him a Death Eater! If anyone knows what Voldemort knows about the Order, it’s him.”

“Yeah, it’s probably he who tells You-Know-Who in the first place.”

Hermione didn’t argue the point with him; it wasn’t the time to educate Ron on deception.

Ron, unfazed, carried on. “Besides, it’s not as if we can go up and ask him, is it? ‘Um, excuse me, Professor, d’you mind telling us what Voldywarts knows ‘bout the Order, since you’re spending so much time with him?’ He’d skin us and use our innards as potions ingredients!”

“No, I suppose not…”

“I wish we could use one of those muggle tele-thingys. Dad’s got one downstairs, but it won’t work with so much magic around.”

“I’ve noticed, even my parents are owling me now- hang on- Ron, you’re a genius!”

Obviously not expecting this declaration, but not about to refute it, Ron sent her a bewildered look. “I am?”  
“How many muggle-born Death Eaters do you know? We’ll just tell him as in Muggle terms, and even if the owl gets intercepted, they’ll think we’re talking about the things that, well, _normal_ teens talk about.”

“I _am_ a genius!”

Hermione smirked as she shoved Ron out of the way and sat at the desk. It was going to be good to have both her friends with her at last- and to be able to keep an eye on Harry, who wasn’t doing all that well if his letters and Sirius’s reaction to not being allowed to “do anything bloody useful” was anything to go by.

———————————————————————————————————————————

_Dear Harry,_  
_How are you? We haven’t heard from you in quite some while. I know you can’t wait to get out of the Shire, but I expect we’ll be seeing you here at Rivendell soon enough. Gandalf is here with us, and The Fellowship of the Ring is being formed- that’s the same Fellowship they formed last time the Ring needed to be destroyed. Gandalf is in charge of it, and there are quite a lot of people we know. We don’t know anything about it, because they won’t let us anywhere near the Council of Elrond, so that’s all the news we have. We’re trying to get Gandalf to let us in on something, but he’s all “You shall not pass”. Anyway, Sauron and the Nazgul don’t know about any of this, as far as we know, so you’ll want to destroy it- Gandalf’d have us expelled or something if he found out._  
_Love,_  
_Merry and Pippin_

Grinning, Harry ran the parchment under water until it started tearing up and the ink diffused through it. He _had_ been going half mad, not being able to tell the Dursleys that the maddest, baddest wizard was after him again, and tracking the Muggle news in case the Death Eaters made an appearance. _Good grief, Gandalf._ He was glad Hermione had thought to give him some information, even if it was in the form of _Lord of the Rings_ references and he’d had to wrack his brains to remember the plot. It seemed she’d (or perhaps it’d been Ron’s idea) also keyed the parchment to his touch, because when he wasn’t holding it, it turned into a recipe for Cauldron Cakes.

———————————————————————————————————————————

“HARRY! You’re here! You’ve got to tell us everything- _Dementors?_ In Little Winging? And there’s no way they can expel you, there are exceptions to that statute-“

“Let him breathe, Hermione,” said Ron, grinning as he closed the door behind them.

“I’ll tell you about the Dementors in a bit” said Harry, who still hadn’t quite gotten used to the fact. “But first, what is this place? And thanks for the letter, it might have been the only thing keeping hold of my sanity- but what’s the Fellowship? And _Rivendell?_ ”

“Well, _this_ is Rivendell- I’m just joking. But I couldn’t very well tell you we were at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, could I? That’s the Fellowship, by the way, the Order of the Phoenix. It’s the group that Dumbledore formed last time to fight Voldemort, and it’s rebanded now. They won’t let any of the ‘children’ near a meeting, though,” Hermione finished, huffing with obvious annoyance.

“So what are you doing, if it’s not fighting Voldemort?”

“We” started Ron “are decontaminating the house with my mum. Honestly, mate, houses shouldn’t be left alone this long- stuff’s bred in here. If I have to clean out another niffler nest, I think I’m going to become one myself.”

But before he could go on about the horrors of cleaning Grimmauld Place under the command of Molly Weasley, she interrupted them herself- “Harry! Ron! Hermione! Dinner’s ready!” Bounding down the stairs, Harry collided with something solid, and decided not Molly Weasley. 

“So, my godson’s home.”

“Sirius!” Harry, embracing his godfather as the rest of the Order made its way to the kitchen table.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spyed Snape make his way towards the door. Harry seemed to have noticed it as well, but he didn’t say anything, obviously elated to be reunited with Sirius. Hermione was sure, however, that she was alone in noticing the slightly stiff way the man held himself, and the slight limp he seemed to be walking with. Taking her place at the table, she couldn’t help but wonder- _what’s wrong with him? And why doesn’t he ever stay?_


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleaning out Grimmauld's library yeilds some unexpected results

Harry Potter’s first day at Grimmauld Place was going nothing like he expected it to. But he couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned- Ron had been right. Houses definitely shouldn’t be left abandoned for so long, especially not ones belonging to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black- and therefore, by definition, were already home to a frightening number of Dark artefacts. Hermione had already learned to avoid anything with the family motto (“Tojours Pur”) on it, and though the charms were more forgiving to the half-blood Harry, a couple of necklaces had tried to bite him. “No wonder Sirius hates this house, he muttered. “It’s practically a Death Eater itself.”

His friends shivered. “Pretty ironic choice for headquarters,” supplied Ron, and Hermione looked as if she was going to jump in, but Molly Weasley chose that moment to inform that that “No, you are not done for the day- there’s still the Library. Which you might as well start, since you’re all finished with lunch,” and ushered them all to the Black family library. 

“It’s so… _beautiful_ ,” said Hermione, taking in her surroundings. While much smaller than Hogwarts’ library, it’s books were much rarer, and Hermione couldn’t resist pulling one off its shelf. Her choice made Ron and Harry burst out laughing- the inscription read _1001 Ways to See the Soul_ , and the cover displayed a picture of a woman, not unlike Trelawney, with a huge third eye on her chest. Hermione huffed, but joined in. After all, it was rather funny that amongst thousands of books, she had picked up one about maybe the one subject she was troll at. She was about to put it back in its place and get on with the cleaning (though the library had been peculiarly well-preserved), but Ron had other ideas. Prying the book from her grip, he opened the book randomly and began to read. 

“To See is an art, and one only the most capable can excel at….You must open your soul, allow your inner eye to reach into the unknown and see..”

“What utter rubbish.”

“The gift of sight comes in many ways. While most witches have the gift of the present, allowing them to interpret the emotions and thoughts of another-“

“Honestly, it’s called _empathy_ , and the only reason wizards wouldn’t have it is because sometimes you have the emotional range of a teaspoon!”

“Witches and wizards carrying the gift of the future may prophecy in episodes they have no recollection of, and should take care, lest their Inner Eye be crowded and unable to see the whole-“

“Come on, Ron, you’ve had you’re fun, let’s move on” Hermione admonished, secretly a bit disappointed. A part of her had always thought maybe there was a more precise side to divination, a side Professor Trelawney just didn’t include, but it looked like the lot was ludicracy.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Hermione- Harry, your turn to have fun!” Laughed Ron, chucking the book at Harry, who carried on where he had left off.

“The rarest gift of all is that of the past, which enables the Seer to see the past of anyone he touches. Though the gift is most often found in muggleborns (for theories, please turn to “why mixed blood yields rare magic”), it requires a charm to unlock, and therefore often goes undiscovered.” Harry stopped there, and looked up at Hermione. “Come on, let’s try it!” He thrust the book towards her. 

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Harry.”

“Oh, come on, Hermione, it’s the only fun I’ve had all summer!”

“Well, alright I guess- it’s not as if I’ve got any _aura_ or anything anyway. _Aperi animam meam!_ ”

———————————————————————————————————————————  
“Hermione? Hermione, are you all right?”

The first thing Hermione saw when she came to was Harry’s worried face, echoing the emotion in Ron’s words. What she felt, though, was of much more importance to her- her head was pounding, and she was sprawled on the carpet of the library. 

“I’m fine. My head hurts, but I’m fine.”

“Thank God.” Harry visibly relaxed. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened because I’d made try the stupid spell.”

Ron, however, was still agitated- “You, um, you don’t think it worked, do you?”

“Me, Ron? Divination? What are the odds?”

“You’re a muggleborn and one of the most powerful witches of our ages, so quite high, actually.”

“Well, I’ll just have to touch one of you and find out, won’t I?”

Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. We actually _read_ the book while you were, er, out, and it doesn’t work for memories you’ve already been told about, anything not important enough to make an emotional impact, or stuff the person doesn’t remember. And we’ve already told you all of the rest of our lives. Besides, apparently it takes like a month to figure out if it’s worked or not- you’ll get a surprise reading of whoever you touch first after it’s activated- if it activates, that is- and then after that you’ll be able to control it, and it’ll only happen when you want it to, like a spell.”

“How long was I out for again?”

“About half an hour? You had us really scared, Hermione.”

“Oh. Sorry, I guess- and serves you right for trying a spell before not reading up on it properly!”

The boys smiled apologetically, and Ron tried to make amends. “Why don’t you get some rest, Hermione, and we’ll finish up the library?”

“Don’t be silly, I-“ she tried to get up, only to find that she was swaying on her feet. “Maybe I _should_ lie down.”  
———————————————————————————————————————————  
It must have been two in the morning when footsteps downstairs woke Hermione up- she had already been sleeping lightly because of her sleep schedule being out of whack. _Thank you, boys._ Deciding she might as well get up, she made her way down the stairs, intent on a trip to the kitchen. But she never got there- someone was in the side room, whispering in hushed tones.

“Severus, my boy, you can’t go on like this.” 

Hermione startled- she would recognise that voice anywhere. But what was Dumbledore doing up at this hour?

“This is what you require of me, Albus.” Snape hissed.

“Be that as it may, you need medical attention. You’re wearing yourself too thin, and you’re too valuable of an asset to lose. Especially when we can prevent it.”

Too valuable an asset? He’s a person, thought Hermione, hoping they wouldn’t realize she was there, and maybe even shed some light on what the order was doing.

“You know as well as I that the only cure for this is for us to win the war.”

“Still, I wish you would take better care of yourself.”

“You wish for a lot of things, Albus-“

“Amongst which is you _thinking_ better of yourself-“

“-But I assure you, I am perfectly fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, some of us have to get up in the morning.”

She cursed under her breath, muttering a disillusionment charm and retreating into a corner. No new information today, it would seem. 

“Severus?”

“ _Yes?_ ”

“Take care.”

Snape banged the door open with so much force, it was a wonder it didn’t drop off it’s hinges- or worse, wake up the whole house. Resting his weight on the door frame for a second, his eyes darted around almost as if he sensed her- then again, maybe it was habit. Almost imperceptibly squaring his jaw, he made his way out. The echo of a limp was still there.


	3. Chapter 3

“Come on, Harry! We’re going to be late and it’s only the first day! No, it’s Transfiguration first, that’s _this_ way..”

“I know, I know, it’s just… I can’t stop thinking about the- um- the-“

“The Fellowship?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I really, really want to tell you that it’s all going to be alright, but I’ll settle for whatever happens, we’ll be with you” she said, hugging him. 

Harry smiled, warm and open. “Thanks, Hermione. ”

“Now come on, or we’re going to get detention from our first class.”  
———————————————————————————————————————————

“Well _that_ was a disaster,” proclaimed Hermione, taking her place at the Gryffindor table.

“She’s bloomin’ mad,” exclaimed Ron, and they exchanged glances as Harry radiated anger. The last lesson of the day had been Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Hermione would rather learn the Dark Arts themselves than sit through another hour of Umbridge deny Voldemort was back and ridicule Harry.

“We have to do something,” she murmured. “Meet me in the common room after everyone’s left.”

It didn’t take long for the common room to be deserted, as the first day of classes was always taxing, and before long the trio was sitting before the crackling hearth, listening to Hermione’s plan- thankfully with more enthusiasm than they had shown towards SPEW.

“What my point is, Harry, is that with Voldemort back, we absolutely _have_ to know how to defend ourselves. It’s not about passing O.W.L.s anymore, it’s about staying alive.”

“I agree, but defense isn’t really something you can learn out of books, you know.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but maybe we could ask a teacher?” volunteered Ron. “McGonagall’d give Umbridge a run for her money any day. ”

Hermione grimaced. She wishes it could be done. “McGonagall could probably give _Voldemort_ a run for his money, but can we can’t involve any teachers. I imagine they’ll turn a blind eye if they discover what we’re doing, but teaching us behind Umbridge’s back will only lead to the Ministry interfering even more at Hogwarts- and maybe even her trying to fire someone.”

“Pity, I’d love to see the greasy bat of the dungeons never again.”

“Ron! He’s,” she lowered her voice. “on our side.”

“He does have a point, Hermione. He might be with the Order, but he still hates me. Anyway, you’re right about not involving teachers, I think, though I’d love to have Lupin back… but he already has enough on his plate. And Sirius would love to get out of Grimmauld Place, but everyone here thinks he’s a demented murderer, so I don’t see that happening. I don’t think there’s much we can do without someone to teach us, though, even if we do manage to form a secret club and practice amongst ourselves.”

“That’s where you come in, Harry.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You could teach us.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

She huffed. “Harry, you conjured a patronus- which is _NEWT-level magic_ , in our _third year_. You’re the best in the form at Defense, by far, and better than some of the sixth and seventh years, too, I’d bet.”

“That wasn’t easy, Hermione, and it’s not like I’d know what I was doing _teaching_ it.”

“Blimey, mate!” Ron stood up from his place on the sofa and turned to face them. “You’re our best chance at actually staying alive and you’re worried about being a crap teacher? You can’t be any worse than bloody _Umbridge_!”

“I don’t know, I-“

“Harry. You keep saying that you want to do something instead of sitting on your arse and waiting for Voldemort to kill someone else. Well, this is something you can do. Are going to, or keep whining?” It was a bit harsh, but she had to knock some sense into her friend- and he really was the best teacher they could get.

“Alright.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and saw Ron mirror her.

“Can you think of who we should invite to join?”

She pulled a roll of parchment out of the back pocket of her jeans and smoothed it on her lap, looking up to seeing Harry and Ron laughing.

“You sure prepared, Hermione!”

She smiled. “It’s good to see you smiling again, Harry. Come on, let’s get to bed. We’ll look over this tomorrow- it’s been a long day.”

Going to sleep proved to be much more challenging than going to bed. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, Hermione admitted defeat and decided to burn off some of her nervous energy. _Spontaneous prefect rounds it is._ Making her way along the winding corridors and shifting staircases, she found herself on the stairs leading to the dungeon. Her feet must have carried her to the place she expected the most trouble to be. Prefect duties, indeed. Turning around, she headed toward Gryffindor Tower. There were mere hours left to daybreak, and a nap would be nice, even if a full night’s sleep was out of the question. She remembered there being a shortcut right around the corner-

Hermione froze in her tracks. At the far end of the corridor stood a cloaked and hooded figure, though _stood_ was too strong of a word- whoever it was was leaning against the stone wall, limping towards the dungeons at a snail’s pace. Sharp intakes of breath and hisses sounded in the otherwise silent passage. Leaning toward the figure, Hermione saw that he was trembling. She itched to help- but a man of that build couldn’t be a student, and anyone else stalking the dungeons in the middle of the night was bound to have less than friendly motives towards a student wandering the halls on her own, virtually unprotected. Her train of thought came to a skidding halt a moment later, as the man collapsed and lay spasming on the floor, trying in vain to suppress his moaning from the pain. _Well, that’s it._ She ran down the corridor and knelt next to the man, whose limbs were arranged at an unnatural angle. Reaching for his cloak, she pulled aside the hood, and gasped.


	4. Chapter 4

There was no mistaking the lanky hair or the prominent nose. Severus Snape, who had made her cower with fear for at least two years and jump out of her bones with his door-slamming act not a week ago, was spasming on the dungeon floor. Part of her wanted to run, to obliviate him so she wouldn’t have to face his inevitable wrath for what she was about to do, but she quieted that part of her mind and slid his arm around her shoulders, hoisting him to his feet. He was all skin and bones, but that didn’t mean she didn’t almost buckle under his weight. He didn’t seem to be fully conscious- perhaps that was why he hadn’t hexed her yet. 

“Sir? Where are your rooms?”

He mumbled something unintelligible, his head lolling towards her, but she thought there was something about his office in his words. It wasn’t like she had much of an alternative, save dragging him to the Hospital Wing, which was on the other side of the school, and she wasn’t that strong. Navigating the short distance to his office, she opened the door and deposited him in a chair. Kneeling before him so she was at the same height as him, she took his face in her hands and turned her eyes towards herself. There was still no sign of recognition. _This is bad. No,_ bad _doesn’t cut it._ She wasn’t stupid- for Snape to be returning at this hour, it had to be incredibly important business, which would mean the Order or somehow spying on Voldemort. And though he didn’t get along with most of the members, there was no good reason he’d return almost unconscious from an Order meeting. 

He was shivering, now, sweat pooling on his forehead and muscles twitching.

“Professor? Professor? Can you hear me?”

Dampening a rag from the sink in the corner (thank Merlin he taught Potions, which actually had a lab), she began pressing the cool cloth to his face and neck. After what seemed like a lifetime (though her watch argued it was closer to 15 minutes) he snapped to attention and growled at her.

“Granger? _What_ do you think you’re doing?” 

She would never understand how he could manage to change moods so quickly, yet alone be so menacing whilst incapacitated.

“I-I- you collapsed…”

“Foolish girl! I would have been perfectly capable of returning to my chambers in an hour. You have _no right_ to be here. Now get out of my sight before-“ _Before I_ see _what this war does. When will you stop protecting us?_ His hand flew to his ribs and he doubled over before raising his eyes to meet hers. “Get. Out.”

“I can’t leave you-“

“NOW!”

But it was too late- she almost dropped her wand as his muscle spasms came back, rendering him incapable of speech- and then they were over, just as quickly as they had began.

“With all due respect, sir, you need medical attention. Now, unless you’d rather I called Madam Pomfrey-“

“No!”

“Look, I’m not leaving you like this. So either you can let me help you, or I can get Madam Pomfrey. It’s your choice.”

He took in a deep breath. “Okay.” 

She watched the fight go out of his eyes, and her worry grew. How badly hurt would he be that she still had all her limbs intact and no detention? 

“Where are your rooms?”

He gestured to a door behind his desk. Moving to stand up, he stumbled and caught himself on the armrest. This time, she didn’t hesitate as she supported his weight, guiding them to the door and watching it open with a flick of his wand.

It was the first time she had entered his rooms, but they weren’t so different than what she had expected: sparse but comfortable furniture arranged in a utilitarian fashion, with bookshelves lining the walls. A standard setup for a Hogwarts professor. Helping him sit on the bed, she shed her outer robes and rolled up her sleeves. 

A quick diagnostic spell revealed that he had three broken ribs and severe nerve damage- as well as a million other health problems that she couldn’t do anything about at the moment. “What happened?”

“None of your business.”

“Look, if I don’t know what happened, I can’t help you.”

“I don’t _want_ your help. And I’d thank you to remove yourself from my presence. I assure you I won’t die in my own rooms.”

“Nice try.” She lightly poked where his broken ribs were, and he glared at her like he’d want nothing more than to break _her_ ribs. “You know as well as me that healing spells are never as effective when you do them on yourself, even for minor injuries. You can’t possibly cure _broken ribs_ on your own.” Taking care not to jostle him more than necessary, she removed his cloak and threw it somewhere in the general vicinity of the chair he had next to his wardrobe, before taking up her wand to spell his line of buttons open and charm off his outer robe. Underneath, he had on a white shirt. “Okay, I’m going to have to take this off by hand, it’s too close to the broken ribs and I don’t want to chance unsettling them and making it worse.” _Though that’s not bloody likely- how did he break his_ ribs _?_

She brought her fingers up to his collar and began unbuttoning him, slowly, so as not to disturb any fractures. The shirt was soaked through with sweat, but the skin was cold and clammy where her fingertips touched the dip between his collar bones. 

“I am perfectly capable of completing the task myself, Granger” Snape hissed as he swatted away her hands and tried to unbutton the next button. His fingers shook, preventing him from even grasping the object, and he clenched his fists, bowing his head as his whole body tensed. 

“Let me.” She pried his hands from the shirt, encircling them in her own as she lowered them to rest them on the bed-

In a split second, he jerked his arms out of grip and sprang to his feet, causing her to jump back. “STOP! You have no idea what you’re doing, Granger! You want to know what I was doing tonight? I was kneeling at Voldemort’s feet-“

“I gathered as much-“

“I WAS TORTURING _CHILDREN_! MUGGLEBORN _CHILDREN_! So take your pathological need to take care of people and go comfort your friends, because tomorrow morning they’re going to be missing neighbors, brothers, sisters- AND IT’S MY FAULT! How’s that for what happened tonight? Happy now? It could have been your family, and I would have done it- WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? _GET OUT-!_ ”

“SHUT UP!” Both their chests heaved with every breath. She couldn’t believe she had just yelled at a professor- at Snape. Neither could he, apparently, because his ordinarily icy eyes held total shock, and his breath came in short gasps. The outburst had taken its toll. “Do you take me for stupid? I know what Voldemort’s capable of. I know you’re a Death Eater. I know what you have to do and the toll it must take and that you’re wearing yourself too thin and that you _need_ those ribs healed and nerves looked at. I’m not particularly interested if you _want_ me to do it or not. Now sit down, shut up, and tell me why you look like you tortured yourself along with those children.” Great. Now he would know that she had overheard their conversation with Dumbledore. _‘Wearing yourself too thin’? You might as well have called him ‘my boy’._ And more likely than not, he was going to make her life a living hell when he came to his senses. _The things I do for the Order._

To her amazement, he sat back on the bed, and didn’t say anything when she went back to his buttons.


	5. Chapter 5

She pulled the shirt out of his slacks and finished unbuttoning it, gently sliding it off his shoulders. “ _Facilitate sanitatem_ ” she muttered, bringing her hands together and directing her charm at them. While minor injuries could be healed directly through a wand, more serious breaks, especially those taking place around the vital organs, required the healer to direct her magic through her hands, guiding the bones and tissue into place. He winced slightly as she placed her hands on his ribs, concentrating on the feel of the bone beneath his skin, channeling her magic to knit the fractured material back together. His skin was as white as the shirt he had been wearing, displaying quite a few scars- some obviously years old, some more recent. She didn’t know how he had managed to accumulate so many, but it wasn’t playing quidditch. Proper magical healing prevented scars, unless the wounds were cursed. Then again, if his behavior now was anything to go by, she didn’t think getting properly healed was high on his list of priorities. 

“It was Cruciatus, wasn’t it? That’s what the nerve damage is from.”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. I never do.”

“Isn’t there a- a potion or something that can help with the side effects?” It was a stupid question- she already knew there wasn’t anything specific to the Crutiatus. Nerve damage in general she could deal with, but the only thing that would be effective immediately was a warm shower and some soothing tea.

“I think you know the answer to that question, Miss Granger.”

“Can- can I ask why?”

“It certainly wouldn’t be the most intrusive thing you’ve done tonight.”

“Did you do something to anger him?”

“The Dark Lord? No. However, he felt… he needed confirmation of my loyalty.”

“So he tortured you?”

“Yes. There’s no need to look so shocked; it’s not as if it’s a rare occurrence.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Miss Granger.”

Hermione looked at the Potions Master, hunched on his bed in nothing but his slacks, exhausted and shivering. At that moment, he looked more human than she’d ever seen him. She was seized by an unexplainable urge to tuck him in, but that was about as likely as Hagrid taking a desk job.

“You should get some sleep, sir.”

“Perhaps. You should go, Miss Granger.” For the first time that night, it wasn’t filled with venom.

———————————————————————————————————————————

“Earth to Hermione?”

“Oh, sorry, Ron.”

“No problem. Sickle for your thoughts?”

“Um, you know, the usual…”

Her thoughts couldn’t be further from _the usual_ \- she had spent the last five minutes eyeing Snape as he sat picking at his breakfast at the staff table. She had expected him to look like death warmed over, but he was his usual self, which made her wonder just how used to this he was. They hadn’t had any Potions lessons that day, and Hermione was thankful for it, because while Snape had certainly needed her help last night (well, technically it was that morning), she fully expected to be rewarded with detention the next time they crossed paths. She continued to mull over the subject as the walked back to Gryffindor tower. He had come back with _broken ribs_ \- and said Cruciatus wasn’t a rare occurrence. Which all begged the question-

“Harry, remember when you said you’d seen Dumbledore’s memory of testifying Professor Snape was no more a Death Eater than he was?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any idea _why_ he switched sides?”

“No- Dumbledore only said he came over before Voldemort’s fall and spied at ‘great personal risk’.”

_Great personal risk, indeed._

“Where are all these questions coming from, anyway? You’ve always been the one to jump to defend Snape.”

“I know, I know, I just-“

“Come on, Hermione.” Chimed in Ron, looking up from surveying the list she had drafted of people they could invite to join their secret defense group. “You can tell us, we’re the last people to judge you for doubting Snape.”

“I _don’t_ doubt him- I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone and not be mad.”

“Okay..”

She told them all about finding Snape and healing his ribs. Silence overtook them as she finished, each lost in his own thoughts. 

“That’s awful.” Ron was the first to speak. “It was good of you to help him, Hermione… but it doesn’t excuse him being a right git to Harry.”

“I wonder why he goes back every time if this is what happens to him, too,” said Harry. “And why did he join in the first place? It’s not like we know any other reformed Death Eaters…”

“I just…” she closed her eyes as a single tear made its way down her cheek. “he’s going to go back. Lupin is doing who knows what… Snuffles is cooped up in a house he hates. And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“That’s not true, Hermione. Let’s do this defense thing. I’ll teach you. You’re right- it’s time I quit whining.”  
———————————————————————————————————————————  
“Pssst, Neville!” It was Charms, and Hermione had been trying to get Neville’s attention for the past five minutes. They had decided to call their little defense group “Dumbledore’s Army”, and had started recruiting. Rolling her eyes at his obliviousness, she reached forward from where seat behind him and grabbed his hand. 

Unbidden, his life flashed before her eyes: his grandmother taking him to pick out Trevor, Dumbledore awarding him points for stopping them on their way to the Philosopher’s Stone, visiting St. Mungo’s, accepting what looked like a sweet wrapper from what must have been his mother…

She let go of his hand like it burned, and her head hit the desk in front of her. 

“Hermione? Are you alright?”

“Oh, um, of course. I just wanted to ask you…”  
———————————————————————————————————————————

When Hermione slid in between the boys at lunch, she had plenty of news they weren’t expecting. For one, Neville had not only agreed to join, he’d supplied the perfect meeting place, too- the Room of Requirement. Second,  
“It’s happened.”

“What d’you mean, it’s happened?”

“I mean, Ronald, that that spell you cast on me worked.”

Harry spat out a bit of pumpkin juice, and reached for a napkin as Ron stared at her wide-eyed. “Merlin’s beard! I never thought it’d actually work… Well, can you control it now?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t tried yet.”

“Who set it off?”

“Neville.”

“You know what you have to do now, Hermione?” grinned Harry, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Ask Trelawney for help.”

“Um, mate, it’s about time we got to the meeting.” Ron grinned as Harry and Hermione stared at him, eyes as wide as saucers. _Ronald Weasley, reminding us of the time. Now_ this _is magic._

The trio made their way to the seventh floor, where they were greeted by almost thirty students, wands at the ready. 

“Um, hello.” Managed Harry. “I wasn’t expecting so many people… So, you all know our current Defense against the Dark Arts class isn’t very, er, useful. And with Voldemort back, this is class we need more than anything. I’m not really good at this speech thing- let’s get to work. The first spell we’re going to learn is _expelliarmus_ , used to disarm your opponent…”

A good two hours and buckets of sweat later, Harry finally decided to end the first meeting with a “Thank you all for coming!” before turning to Hermione. “You up for a trip to the North Tower?”

She scowled. “I’ll manage fine on my own, thank you. Now go get some rest, _Professor Potter_.”


	6. Chapter 6

Cursing under her breath, Hermione climbed the last flights to the North Tower. Loathe as she was to admit it, Harry had been right. If there was anyone who could help her use this new _gift_ , it was Trelawney. She didn’t want to end up passing out every time she touched someone new. If they had the book with them, they could have looked it up- but Hogwarts’s library didn’t have such a rare volume, and she hadn’t thought to bring Sirius’s copy with her because she had never thought the spell would work. As for the boys, Merlin would become a ghost before either of them could be expected to pack a book that wasn’t required. Trelawney, however, was nowhere in sight. 

“Professor Trelawney?” She called out. “Could I ask you about something?”

“Yeeesss?” Came a far-off voice. “Sit down, child, sit down… I’ll be there in a minute…”

Hermione took a seat on one of the poofs, and looked around the room as she waited for Trelawney to appear. The room hadn’t changed a bit- it had the same crystal orbs in the middle of each table, the same dingy smell, and the same enormous windows that lined the ceiling. Trelawney hadn’t changed, either: she had the same floating walk and serene, if a little batty, air about her as she sat opposite Hermione. 

“My inner eye sees trouble in your soul, child.” She beamed. 

_Yes, well, my mirror could have told me that._ “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I know I’ve never been particularly good at divining the future, but over the summer my friends cast a spell on me- _Aperi animam meam_ , and the other day I touched someone and had a vision of their past and passed out. The book said I would be able to control it after the first time, but I don’t know how.”

“ _Aperi animam meam?_ That’s a very old piece of magic, Miss Granger… Where did you find it? Never mind, never mind, it is of no importance when your soul is concerned. I must say it surprises me, to find the gift with you… It is rare nowadays. Perhaps you should tell Albus… Yes.. There are always bonds to be considered…Anyway, it shouldn’t be hard for even you to control- the magic is based on intent. It does not have, shall we say, the subtleties of Seeing the future. Merely the conscious wish to know should suffice… though of course you will have to be touching the person for the duration. I’ve heard it scarcely takes more than a few seconds, though… Would you like to try it on me, dear?” She held out her arm, sticking out of her lavender shawl like a frail branch from an old and withered tree. 

“Um, no thank you, Professor.” She really didn’t want to see what Trelawney got up to in her free time- she had a sneaking suspicion it involved a lot of cats and cats. “So I won’t pass out? And I won’t see someone’s past if I don’t want to?”

“You won’t See unless you choose to. As for your losing consciousness, I cannot be sure. The Inner Eye often feels the need to rid itself of the earthly to see beyond, if you know what I mean.”

Hermione thanked her and left before Trelawney tried to prophecy her imminent death, warnings and advise to tell Dumbledore lost in the jumble of her thoughts. It surprised her, however, that the next door she found herself before was not one with the Fat Lady, but rather belonged to Snape’s office. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own these days. It _was_ before curfew…Wondering exactly when she had lost her mind, Hermione knocked on his door. 

“Enter.” If Snape was startled she had come to see him, he didn’t show it. “And what brings you to me, Miss Granger, for the first time in five years?” He glared at her, daring her to lie. 

“I-um, I wanted to- can I sit down?” He frowned, but nodded. 

“Iwantedtoseeifyouwerealright,” she let out in one breath, sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

“Miss Granger, if you are under the impression I will be wasting my time deciphering your gibberish, you are sorely mistaken. Either address me properly or remove yourself from my presence.”

“I wanted to ask if you were alright, sir.”

He froze. “And _why_ would you be wondering such a thing? Do I look incapacitated to you, Miss Granger? Because I assure you, what I do is none of your business.”

“I’m _making_ it my business.”

“ _Language_ , Miss Granger.”

“Look, I just want to help! I saw the state you returned in last time, and I can’t stand by while you go risk your neck!”

“How very _Gryffindor_ of you.” He sneered. “If you truly wish to assist me, you will leave. _Now._ ”

“ _No!” Oh God. I just shouted at a Professor. At Professor_ Snape. _He’s going to kill me._

“Detention, Granger! For a month. And if you don’t leave this office _this instant,_ it will be straight to the Headmaster’s office and we’ll see what he has to say about his little know-it-all wandering about the castle and sticking her nose where he has _expressly forbidden_ it from being. I imagine you will never go to _London_ again.”

She was seething in anger as she left- never go to Grimmauld Place again! Yes, Dumbledore would probably give her a well-deserved reprimand, but he wouldn’t shut her out… would he? _He keep practically_ everything _from Harry._ She shook her head- she had more urgent problems to deal with. Like a month’s detention with Snape. Then again, at least she would be able to see what he was up to without storming his office again. Assuming he didn’t hand her off to Filch. 

Severus Snape found himself in a position he hadn’t been in for twenty years. And it was all because of darn Granger. She had insisted on healing him when he didn’t have the strength to throw her out, and now she had the audacity to come back and ask if he was alright. _No-one_ asked him that- he reported to Dumbledore and that was the end of it. The bloody Order wasn’t concerning itself with his well-being, why on earth was she? And she had _known_ what he had done when she had decided to stay. If he had been the type of man that let his emotions show, he would have shaken his head. Detention would serve her well. Still, he couldn’t help the pang of guilt he felt as he remembered his reaction to her. It was necessary, but she seemed to really _care…_ what a Gryffindor sentiment.  
———————————————————————————————————————————  
When Hermione woke to find Professor McGonagall waiting for her, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that something was seriously wrong. Minerva McGonagall _never_ visited the dormitory, let alone to tell her to get dressed as quickly as possible so they could leave. Especially not during Christmas break. As they hurried to Dumbledore’s office, the Professor filled Hermione in, and her worst fears were confirmed. Somebody had been attacked, grievously injured- they were lucky Mr. Weasley was still alive. 

12 Grimmauld Place, which had been alive and humming on her last visit, now had so much tension in its air it could be cut with a knife. Even Fred and George were sulking, and everyone had retired at 10 o’clock. Arthur Weasley was stable, but no-one felt like sitting together without him. Now, she stared at the ceiling in the room she shared with Ginny, listening to her snore softly. Everyone was knackered, mentally as well as physically, and it wasn’t long until Hermione drifted off as well. 

She woke to the tortured cries, and on instinct grabbed her wand and tore through the house- the sound was coming from the topmost floor. She slammed the door open, casting a quick _lumos._ She lowered her wand- Hermione was standing in the middle of Sirius’s bedroom. And the source of the sounds that had cut through her sleep like a knife was no other than the man in the bed. Tangled in the bedsheets, his eyes screwed shut, breath coming in ragged pants. Quickly but quietly, she sat on the side on the bed and put a hand on the shoulder furthest from her.  
“Sirius. Sirius!” She shook him gently, and was relieved to see him still and open his eyes. “You were having a nightmare.”

He sat up, still shaking slightly, and she handed him a glass of water she conjured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, taking a small sip out of the glass. “I must’ve forgot my Dreamless Sleep, what with all that’s happened…Thanks, Hermione.”

“Don’t mention it. Do you always have nightmares?”

“No.” He took a larger drink of water. “This house always sets them off. Features in a lot of them, as well.”

“I know it can’t be easy for you, living in a house with so many bad memories, Sirius. But… maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. You can make happy memories in it now, with Order and Harry. You know, break the hold it has over you.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t the warm, sincere one she was used to seeing on his face. “It’s not just the house, Hermione. I spent 16 years of my life here, with the living, breathing version of the portrait downstairs-“ Hermione shuddered at the mention of Walburga Black “a handful of them fighting tooth and nail to bring down one of the darkest wizards to walk the earth and keep my friends alive, and not only spectacularly failed, spent 12 years in Azkaban before I could even avenge them. I don’t think forgiveness is coming to me in a hurry.”

She took the cup of water from him and vanished it, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Sirius Black. And you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. How old are you now? 35?”

“36.”

“Right. And how old is Dumbledore? 100? Just… stay alive, alright? Harry really needs you. And you _are_ doing something important for the Order by being here.” He held her a bit closer. “I’m sure James would be proud” she whispered. 

Sirius let his head sink into the crook of her neck, and she felt moisture against her skin.  
———————————————————————————————————————————

It was the wee hours of the morning when Hermione left the top floor to go back to bed. What she had not been expecting was a very ominous Professor Snape, his eyes fixed on her from where he stood on the landing staircase. She bit her lip- he must have seen exactly where she was coming from. But before she could open her mouth, he turned around and walked out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

The Weasleys were still at St. Mungo’s with their father, but she had come back after spending the morning with them, giving them some family time. Harry was upstairs, sleeping, which left Snape and Sirius as the only people in the house with her. Hermione had never seen Snape and Sirius alone with each other, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She didn’t know the full extent of what had happened between them while they were at school, but-

the thought was cut short by a loud crash from the kitchen. She sprang up from her seat in the living room and burst into the room, only to find the two with their wands drawn and in the middle of an argument that she apparently played a part in. The crash seemed to have come from the teacup now in fragments at Snape’s feet. 

“Entertaining Miss Granger at night now? I would have thought even you were above that, but once again you prove you are nothing but a _dog_.”

“You sniveling git, you have _no idea_ what friendship is, do you? Because you’re nothing but a traitor and a _coward_ -“

“Watch it, Black, before I make sure you never have a night guest again-“

“HEY! STOP!” She slid between the two, pushing them apart as far as she could. “You’re on the same side now! There are more important things that stupid schoolyard fights! And there’s no need to involve me in barmy insinuations, either!”

Snape snarled as Sirius spoke. “Stupid schoolyard fight? Snivellus here knew more dark jinxes and hexes in our first year than most seventh years. He was a bloody _Death Eater!_ ”

“Need I remind you that you tried to _kill me_ , Black?” 

“Enough! Sit down, both of you. I’m making tea. And you two are going to have learn to trust each other if you ever want to bring down Voldemort-“

“Do _not_ use the Dark Lord’s name.” Hissed Snape, sitting at the kitchen table and subconsciously rubbing his left forearm. In hindsight, this was probably not the best topic to get into in front of Sirius, who very, very slowly got to his feet. 

“You know, I grew up in this house with a family full of would-be Death Eaters, and I _still_ chose the right way. For _you_ to take the mark just proves how twisted your mind is. You make your tea, Hermione. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but if I spend another minute with Snivellus you’ll be carrying his dead body out of here.” He shut the door on his way out. 

Hermione, relieved as she was that everyone was still alive, couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps she had been wrong. _Maybe this_ is _more than just stupid school rivalry._

“Well, Miss Granger, I’ll be on my way. If Mr. Potter wakes up anytime this week, tell him he’s to speak with me.”

“Wait.” She was still a bit irritated with him for the detentions he’d given her, but it was slowly fading. “I really was going to make that tea.” She _evanesco_ ’d the remnants of the tea cup and looked at him imploringly: would he let be knownshe could bother him by getting up, or suffer through tea with her but leave his reputation of being impossible to frazzle intact?

“Very well.”

Smiling, she took out new cups for them both? “Does it hurt? When someone says Vol- You-Know-Who’s name?”

“Yes.” 

She set the cup down in front of him and took a seat herself. “Did it hurt to take it? The Mark?”

He blew on his tea. There was a moment of silence as he thought about telling her it was worse than the Cruciatus. “Yes.”

“I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

He lifted an eyebrow, and his lip curled into what could have been a smile. “The insufferable know-it-all, admitting she’s wrong? As much as I’d like to agree with you, Miss Granger, I’m at a loss as to what you’re talking about.”

“About it being a stupid schoolyard fight between you two.”

His expression darkened again. “Yes.” 

“What do I have to do to get more than monosyllables?” _Hah. He can’t answer that with a yes or no._

“I’m afraid it’s hopeless.” 

_Well, I could always… but he would kill me… no, it’s now or never. He can’t give me detention here._ Reaching over the table, she grabbed his hand- he jerked- and willed her gift to reveal his past. 

When she woke up, Harry and Ron were standing beside her bed.   
“What happened?”

“Apparently you passed out on Snape.” Said Harry. “He carried you up here and woke me up. Ron just arrived half an hour ago.”

 _Half an hour ago?_ “How have I been out? _Again_?”

“I think you just kept on sleeping because you were so tired. Sirius says it’ll do you some good, getting some sleep once in a while. You were crying, though, Hermione, we couldn’t get you to stop.”

“Oh. Must be the stress, you know, and Mr. Weasley…”

“Dad’s fine.” Ron beamed. “Brought him home today. We’re all going to be staying for Christmas, Sirius said the more the merrier, but there’s still no word from Percy-“

“Nitwit.”

“Yeah, exactly. Anyway, Snape said he’s going to be teaching Harry Occluwhatsitsname-“

“Occlumency, Ron” interrupted Hermione, who was still a bit out if it. _Professor Snape loved Harry’s mum._ Harry’s mum. _And he was right about Sirius all along; even though he’s obviously changed. I can’t believe he’s been through so much… Merlin, what would Harry say if he knew?_

“Yeah.” Harry picked up where Ron had left off. “He said Dumbledore’s concerned Voldemort will try to make me do stuff. Sirius wasn’t too happy about me spending so much extra time with Snape, he gave me this present- it’s a two way mirror!”

“Wicked!” Ron was rapidly starting to sound more and more like Fred and George. “So, Hermione, back to you. The last time you passed out was when you saw Neville’s past…”

“I’m not telling you.” Her tone left no room for argument. “He’s been through a lot. I’ll never doubt his loyalties again, though… and he does have reason for hating Sirius and your dad, Harry.”

“What?”

“I- I really can’t tell you. Just _try_ and be nice to him, alright?”

“Alright.” He said, begrudgingly. “Do you think I should ask Sirius about it?”

She shrugged. “You could. But he’s dealing with problems of his own… maybe later would be better. Does Snape know I-“

“I don’t think so.”

“Was he mad?”

“Not more than usual.”

“Then he doesn’t, probably, seeing I’m still alive.”

“What it is that’s so bad, Hermione?” Ron asked earnestly. She thought about telling them how he had seen his father beating him, James hanging him from a tree and choking him on soap, him holding a dead Lily Potter and crying as baby Harry wailed- 

She shook her head. “He- he’s a good man. That’s all you need to know, for now.”


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of Christmas break was uneventful. Snape didn’t come back, leading Hermione to think he had only come to tell Harry about the Occlumency lessons anyway. Sirius didn’t miss his Dreamless Sleep again. With Mr. Weasley home, everyone was cheerful. Tonks and Kingsley came for Christmas dinner, but Lupin was still trying to recruit the werewolves to the Order. In other words, it was utterly boring and exactly what the trio needed. All too quickly it was time for them to return to Hogwarts. Hermione spent the whole train ride in trepidation: she had a month’s detention with Severus Snape. Last time she had been alone with the man in his office, she had lost control and practically screamed at him. He would probably give her a month of skinning flobberworms, or worse. When she reported to his office in the evening, ready to scrub cauldrons without magic, he surprised her. 

“You will be brewing a potion for the Madam Pomfrey today, Miss Granger. The ingredients are in the storeroom and the instructions are on the board.” 

She looked at the spiky handwriting adorning the board- the instructions were for Furiisque Refecti, the Reinvigoration Potion. Traditionally administered to a patient after they were revived from an unconscious state. 

“Yes, sir.” 

It was an hour and a half before they spoke again. The potion was simmering, and would continue to do so for another 15 minutes. 

“Are you alright, Miss Granger?”

 _When I ask you the same question, I get a month’s detention. Still, I’m not about to begrudge him the only civil thing he’s done._ “Quite well, thank you for asking, sir.”

He nodded. When she ladled the potion into identical vials, all labeled and stoppered, and brought them to his desk, he removed one and had her put the rest in his private storeroom. He would take them over to Madam Pomfrey later. 

“Is there anything else, sir?”

He held out the vial of potion. “Should you have another episode, drink this.”

“I don’t need-“

“Take it, Miss Granger, unless you believe the potion is substandard, in which case you will be spending another _three hours_ brewing a fresh batch. The choice is yours, of course.”

She took the potion from his hands, remembering the last time she touched him. _No, Hermione, don’t cry._ “Thank you, Professor.”

The next two weeks passed in a similar fashion, Hermione brewing while he marked essays or did research of his own. From what she heard from Harry, his Occlumency lessons were going better than any of them had dare hope. While he wasn’t any good yet, at least no duels had broken out. Hermione had given him a book on Muggle meditation exercises her parents had gotten her years ago, and it was helping him relax and clear his mind a bit. The DA was living up to the Ministry’s worst fears: if they wanted an army, they had one. The other day Neville had stunned Harry, and everyone had been _stunned_ , pun intended. They’d started dueling amongst themselves for practice now, in addition to Harry teaching them. Dolores Umbridge was driving herself mad, trying to find out what they were up to, but Hogwarts had it in for her, and with the castle itself on their side, she didn’t stand a chance. 

With time, Severus began to have her brew more advanced potions, guided her stirring with his hands, taught her, if not to stopper death, then enough to postpone it. Another Potioneer for the Order. “You’ll need the knowledge,” he said. “I’ll teach you how to brew the Wolfsbane for Lupin, and some Verisaterum, the rest can wait…” she had a terrible feeling he was preparing her for a time he wasn’t there to do it himself, twisting around her chest and constraining her breath. _Don’t go._

“Can I stay?” She said the last day, still stirring the bubbling potion. “I want to learn.”

He looked hesitant, as if unsure whether to open the door he had crafted. 

“ _Please_.”

“I-I suppose.”

There were nights when he suddenly twitched, or she simply felt something was wrong, in that unexplainable way that magical feelings work, when she would return to his rooms, dress his wounds, hold him as his muscles spasmed and he bit his lip until it bled. He never spoke; there was a silent understanding between them, the kind that could only be shared between two people who were unsure they would live to see this through, who closed their eyes every time their skin touched. 

Like all good things, it was not to last. 

It was when she woke up remembering nothing of her dreams but his hands, and his hair falling into her face that she made up her mind. _I have to tell him,_ she thought. _I_ have _to. Even if he hates me for it. Someone needs to love him no matter what._ She froze as the realization trickled over like a bucket of cold water, but it had been a long time coming.  
———————————————————————————————————————————

“I know.” It took considerable courage to address her words to the Potions Master in front of her, but it had to be done.

“Know what exactly, Miss Granger?”

“Everything.”

His obsidian eyes flashed with anger as he looked up at her from behind his desk. Hermione had been subjected to that glare many, many times in her five years at Hogwarts, but it never got any less intimidating. _Great, he thinks I’m making fun of him._

“I see your obsession with being an insufferable know-it-all knows no bounds. Now kindly remove yourself from my office, since you seem to be in no state to apply yourself tonight.” Clearly he hadn’t understood what she meant- she wasn’t surprised, she hadn’t exactly been specific. Swallowing to ease the tightness in her throat, she opened her mouth-

“ _Now_ , Miss Granger.”

“I know why you changed sides.”

“GET OUT, GRANGER!” The sound of his voice was enough to make her jump without the fact that he had leapt to his feet, slammed the hefty _Moste Potente Potions_ on the desk and was now gripping the sides of the desk he was resting his weight on, trembling. It was the first time she had seen him like this. 

“Please, I can explain, it doesn’t change anything-“

She ducked as _Moste Potente Potions_ came flying towards her.  
“OUT!”

 _I’ve ruined it all, now._ Her eyes burned and her feet refused to cooperate- and then he was beside her, grabbing her arm hard enough to bruise and throwing her out the door as she snivelled, slamming the door behind him as she sank to the floor on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that's the halfway mark! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you have no idea how much it means. It'll be an update a day from now on- hope you like it :D


	9. Chapter 9

The next week came and went in a blur. She was When Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room, the last thing she expected to see was Harry staring into space, wearing the same expression he had had on their first Hogsmeade weekend and he had been stuck in the castle.

“Harry? Are you alright? What happened?”

“I just had my last Occlumency lesson.”

She took a seat beside him, letting the plush cushions of the sofa support her. “Oh. Um, _why_ was it your last?”

Harry let himself go and leaned back on the velvet cushions lining the back of the enormous armchair he was in. “I put my head in Snape’s pensieve.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, Harry. How much did you see?”

“Not much. But… my dad was in it. And my mum. I- I think Snape was right about my dad all along.” He looked like someone had killed Hedwig. “They were awful to him- they hanged him upside down and force-fed him soap. Then my mum tried to defend him, and asked my dad what he had ever done to them- Sirius and Remus were with my dad as well, and Wormtail- and my dad said _it was more a matter of him existing_. That’s worse than Malfoy’s done to me- and Snape was on his own against four people. Anyway, my mum tried to help him, but then he called her a- a _mudblood_ , and she stormed off. The last thing I saw was my dad threatening to take off Snape’s pants. Then Snape came in and threw me out of his office. I’m not going to tell anyone, but you already know- right?”

“Yes, I know… Harry, maybe you _should_ talk to Sirius.”

“I want to- I know you’re going think I’m off my rocker, but I actually want to talk to _Snape_ about it. Maybe this is why he’s hated me all those years. ”

“Actually, I think that’s a good idea, Harry. Hating you for something your father did isn’t right, but you haven’t exactly done much to show _him_ you’re not the same- _I_ know, but Professor Snape has just seen you -well, us- break rules every year and him having to jump in to save us. And I’m sure it doesn’t help that everyone says you’re practically a carbon copy of your dad.”

Harry nodded. “thanks, Hermione. I guess I’ll go see him now-“

Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to the armchair he was getting up from. “Not _now_! You have to give him some time to cool off first. If you go in there now, he’ll- he’ll probably- throw a book at you or something!”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve been on the receiving end of that before?”

She blinked at him. 

“Come on, Hermione, you’ve been moping for a week now. You were seeing Snape every evening, and then boom! The visits stop, and no one can get a word out of you. What happened?”

“I- I don’t really want to talk about it at the moment.”

“It’s okay, I can understand that. But whenever you want to, I’m here for you. Okay?”

Hermione got up and hugged him. 

———————————————————————————————————————————  
“Professor?”

“I thought I had made it perfectly clear, Mr. Potter, that your lessons have come to an end.”

It had been a week since Harry’s incident with Snape’s memories, and he hadn’t seen the man outside of class since. He had thought about talking to Sirius with the two-way mirror, but something held him back. He felt he should try to make amends before potentially asking his godfather to do the same.

“I’m not here for an Occlumency lesson, sir.”

“Then _what_ is it? If it’s about your current Potions grades, they are abysmal, as usual, and no less than you deserve.”

Harry fought against the urge to grit his teeth. Snape wasn’t going to make this easy for him. Then again, he hadn’t been expecting him to, and this time he acknowledged that the man did have some reason. He shut the door behind him and sat opposite Snape, who had been grading essays. 

“I wanted to apologise, sir. For looking into your memories. It was none of my business, and I’m truly sorry. And I’m sorry for all of the times I was, er, disrespectful. And- and I’m sorry about my dad and Sirius. I didn’t know; I-“

“You _didn’t know_? Your godfather neglected to tell you? Or perhaps Miss Granger? How very amusing it must have been for you, Potter, to laugh about it with your friends: the greasy git of the dungeons, disrobed. Yes, I know what you call me. Say what you may, you are _exactly_ like your father: arrogant, disrespectful, and selfish. Did Granger tell you about your mother and myself as well? Did your little friend tell you how she pretended to _help_ me, only to laugh at my injury with you behind my back? Or perhaps you were the one that put her up to it- how very fitting, the son of James Potter scheming to humiliate me. Well, it won’t work, Potter, I shall not _allow_ it. Nothing to say for yourself? Why, you’re always so _talkative_ in class.”

“Her-hermione never told me anything, sir. She said she’d seen your past, but she wouldn’t tell us anything about it, just that you were a good man and that was all we needed to know. She’s- she’s been _helping_ you? How? I thought she had detention…”

“None of your business, though I find it hard to believe she hasn’t already filled you in on the details.”

“Sir, you mentioned my mother… Did- did you know her?”

Snape’s gaze was impenetrable. Harry looked into his eyes, but there was no trace of emotion he could pick up on- “Yes. I knew her.”

“Oh. I- it’s just, everyone tells me about my father, but I don’t know much about her… anyway, I won’t take up more of your time. I’m sorry about what my dad did. It was nasty of him, and uncalled for. I know I can’t completely relate, but I know what it’s like to be publicly humiliated, and, well… I’m sorry.” He got up to leave. “Goodbye, professor.”

It took Snape the time it took Harry to get to the door to process his words. “Potter!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Your father would never apologise.” The _you’re not your father_ hung unspoken between them. 

“It takes two to make a child, sir.” 

He turned to go, and then turned again to face Snape, one foot out the door. “I’m also sorry I never took Occlumency seriously enough. I did Hermione’s meditation exercises, but I should have been more cooperative in class.” 

Snape’s lip curled. “Perhaps you should come back, next Wednesday, and we’ll see if you’re as hardworking as you claim.”

“Thank you.” 

“And Potter?”

“Yes?”

“Tell Miss Granger she has detention tomorrow night.”

“Yes, sir.”


	10. Chapter 10

He didn’t so much as look at her when she entered the classroom. The instructions were on the board, even more cramped than usual. Running over the procedure, Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized which potion it was. _Dimittetur_ , better known as the Forgiveness potion… the name was sentimentally derived, of course, and had little to do with the actual effects of the thing. Used primarily as a muscle relaxant for short-term use, it had earned its popular name because it overlay all memories of the taker with a calm feeling for the duration of its effect, resulting in a temporary “forgiveness” for anything and everything. Long-term use, however, had been linked to regression in motor control. It was also very hard to brew properly. Still, Snape had to have known that she would recognize the potion. They had discussed it during the focus on healing potions during their fourth year. 

He watched her as she brewed, a certain ease to her movements that was never there during class. She wasn’t being graded on this, and he could see the difference it made. She seemed to enjoy the subject when she wasn’t being hindered by her dunderhead friends. A small furrow formed on his brow as she added in a counter-clockwise stir that had most definitely _not_ been in the instructions he had left her, but it disappeared as he ran it over in his mind. She might be done early, with that addition. And if she wasn’t and mucked up the potion again, she would simply brew it again until she got it right. He was willing to give her forgiveness after Potter’s unexpected visit, but she’d have to brew it first. 

She _was_ done early, but dawdled, taking three times the time necessary to ladle the potion into vials and then carry them to the storeroom, removing a vial to present him with. When she put on his desk, he held it high and raised it up to the light- a pale pink tincture, glowing gold as the light hit it, no precipitate or sediment. Textbook. He held the vial out to her. 

“Here. You’ve deserved it.”

After “are you alright,” those might have been the kindest words he had ever said to her. 

She took the Dimittetur from his hands. “Thank you, sir.”

“Take a seat, Granger.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. He paused for a minute before speaking again. 

“How did you come to learn of it?”

“No-one told me, if that’s what you want to you know, sir.”

“When I want to know if anyone told you, I will ask you, Miss Granger. Now Kindly answer the question I _have_ asked.” The words were cold, but his tone was- if not warm, then tepid. 

“I-I saw it.”

“You mean to say you witnessed events that took place ten years before your birth?” _He’d be funny if he wasn’t so intimidating._

“No, I-“ _Trust him, Hermione._ “Aperi animam.”

His eyebrows moved a fraction of an inch. From Snape, that was the equivalent of said eyebrows hitting the ceiling. “I see. Have you told anyone else of this… gift?”

“Only Professor Trelawney, sir. And Harry and Ron know, of course.”

“This changes matters somewhat. It is imperative- and believe me when I say I do not use that word lightly- that no-one else knows of this development. I shall be informing the headmaster. _You_ will be keeping your mouth shut.”

“I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone about your past, sir-“

“My past is the least of our concerns at the moment, Miss Granger, though I appreciate the discretion you have already shown-“ _was that a compliment?_ “what I was referring to was your newfound ability. Do you have any idea of the lengths the Dark Lord would go to to procure such a talent? The target on your back is big enough as it is.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Very well. You may go, Miss Granger.”

Hermione didn’t move. But instead of the reprimand to stop taking up more of his time she was expecting, he merely lifted an eyebrow, as if he were amused. 

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

She gulped. It did nothing to help the dryness of her throat. “I was wondering… I would completely understand if you don’t want to spend any more time with me, but, could I continue? To learn the potions?”

She felt his gaze with the same tangibility as if he were touching her. “That would be… acceptable.”

They didn’t fall into their old rhythm right away, but it didn’t take as long as she feared it might. And Voldemort was in a better mood. She supposed she ought to be concerned at that, for what it might mean for the war, but she couldn’t begrudge Severus Snape returning relatively unscathed. _Severus, Severus, Severus…_ She couldn’t afford to do this. _He_ certainly couldn’t. Not that there was a _this_. There was a war going on, and they were soldiers. 

It took Draco Malfoy and the Inquisitorial Squad to make her remember that. Everything happened so _fast_ \- though looking back, they should have seen it coming. With the DA disbanded and Dumbledore gone, Harry was brooding worse than ever, and not even Ron’s antics could cheer him up. As Snape taught her how render Verisaterum ineffective and Dreamless Sleep fatal, she wondered if perhaps this hadn’t been the best idea. _The Order,_ she chastised herself. _The Order. That’s what you’re doing this for. You might need to do this someday._ She didn’t want to think about why Snape had been so obliging to teach her. Any conclusion would be damning. If he thought he was going to die, she didn’t want to be involved in any other way than to stop it; if he had come to see he needed an extra pair of competent hands that didn’t belong to Draco Malfoy, she had no idea what his workload was other than it should be fifth of was it was to be considered remotely healthy; and any other option…meant she was losing her mind just to be considering it. 

She had taken to dropping in on her prefect rounds. If he was in his rooms, she’d bid him goodnight. If not, she’d sit in his armchair and wring her hands, waiting for him to come back. “There’s no need for you to lose any more sleep over me,” he’d drawl, but smile nonetheless, the expression so foreign on his features that she'd thought she’d never get used to it. Somehow, she, hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to see it again. Again. _Again._ “What’ch you smiling at, Hermione?” Ron would say as she looked at nothing in particular, and she’d just smile. “You’d never believe me if I told you.” 

A smile, however, was the last thing on her face when he knocked on the door that night. It was almost dawn, and he had never been gone this long. She yanked open the door almost violently-

_“Hermione”_ it was barely a whisper- and then he was on the floor, unmoving.


	11. Chapter 11

It was worse than the first night. It was worse than anything she’d ever seen, and that included pictures of WWII torture victims in her parents’ old library. There was a man-shaped puddle of blood where he’d collapsed. The towels she’d laid on the bedsheets were soaked through. She could see the muscles of his back where he’d been whipped, and her diagnostic spell had yielded there were glass fragments in his innards. It wasn’t exactly routine, but the injuries were far less than what would make him collapse, on Death’s door- there must be something _magical_ \- she splayed her fingers on his chest, feeling the wiry muscles beneath the bruised skin. There was _nothing_ , no, that couldn’t be… And then she felt it, faint, oh so faint, but there nonetheless, pulsing against her own, a warm, tingling force that was so innately Severus Snape she would know it anywhere. But his magic had always been so strong- now, it was spluttering. 

_They siphoned his magic,_ she realised with awe and horror. _Is this how Voldemort gained his power?_ It should return to its former strength, with time, but they didn’t _have_ that kind of time, and even if they did, he was closer to death than recovery at this moment. She supposed _other_ Death Eaters brought back their power by other means than hot tea and sleep- namely, murder- but she knew the man before her, and he wouldn’t raise a wand against someone unless it was truly the only choice. _How did he even apparate back?_ His breath was growing shallower, his chest barely moving under her touch. Almost subconsciously, she leaned down, brushing the hair from his face with a trembling hand, running her thumb along the gash that ran from his right temple to his jaw. With all the gentleness of a wraith, she lowered her head and pressed her lips to his, her magic flowing into him as her tears moistened his cheeks. “Come back,” she whispered against him. “Come back.” 

It took a moment, one agonisingly slow, torturous moment, before his arms came up around her and pulled her onto the bed with him. They stared at each other, noses touching, eyes unblinking, his hand in her hair. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered. 

“I couldn’t let you die.”

He looked down. “I owe you a Life Debt.”

“Severus.” He tensed at the sound of his name, but looked back up at her cinnamon eyes. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you more than you know.” And he wasn’t just talking about the Life Debt he could feel, settling at the back of his skull the same way her magic was settling in his veins, running through him and giving him strength. 

She moved to take his hand, and something shifted in the air. Reality had come crashing down with his recovery, and the reality was that he was her professor. 

“You should go, Miss Granger.” His eyes were still on hers, but now they were blank, unreadable. “Your friends will miss you." 

———————————————————————————————————————————

Hermione spent the rest of the day in a daze. Well, she spent the rest of her _waking_ day in a daze, as having barely slept half an hour the previous night warranted a lie-in on a Saturday morning. The events of last night swam before her eyes every time she blinked. She couldn’t decide which was more disturbing: Severus so close to death, or that she had been _in bed with him_ , albeit not in that sense, and his always inexpressive eyes had been anything but. Harry and Ron had been hounding her to tell them what was on her mind, but she dreaded their reactions when she told them she kissed a teacher- her own reaction had been bad enough, when she regained her sanity. They had both been overjoyed to have the old, laughing Hermione back, and but she doubted they would be equally pleased with the reason. As far as they knew, she was learning potions from Snape for Order business. _As far as they know? That’s_ all _it is, Hermione._ At least the year was coming to an end. She would have 10 weeks to come to her senses before she had to see him again. _No, I do_ not _feel up to deciphering my emotions surrounding that at the moment._

On a less pleasing note, the end of term meant OWLs were coming up. And despite the fact that there was not a single teacher in the whole of Hogwarts (excluding Umbridge, who was less of a teacher than Peeves anyway), that would not attest to the fact that she could have sat her OWLs in her thirds year, Hermione Granger had to study. _Occupy your mind._

Charms had gone rather well. She wasn’t sure she had done herself justice on the Cheering Charm, but there was only so much to time. Transfiguration had been more or less the same; Defense against the Dark Arts could have gone better, but she would make do with the fact that she had helped Harry and Ron get to fifth year without dying, which was no small feat; she had missed a question in Arithmancy; and Potions… Potions had been _odd_. There had been something unnerving about preparing a potion for someone other than Professor Snape or herself. Neville hadn’t exploded his cauldron, and somehow that brought her more joy than having turned in a perfect brew. There was only History of Magic left, and a rereading of her notes should ensure she was prepared for that, as well. And then it would be over. _Peace, yes, I’m looking forward to that. We all need a break._

_Peace_ was the last thing she got. Harry was nowhere to be seen, because he had _fainted_ in the middle of the exam. 

“Where _is_ he?” She whispered furiously to Ron, who was scanning the room, as she was. 

“I dunno, ‘Mione, _I_ can’t see inside his head.”

His reference jostled the wheels in her mind into motion. “You don’t reckon he’s had an another episode?”

She shrugged, but their exchange came to an end anyway, as they spotted Harry making his way towards the pair. 

“Harry! Are you alright? What happened?”

Harry didn’t say anything, just grabbed their arms and steered them to a nearby deserted corridor. 

“Voldemort’s got Sirius in the Department of Mysteries.” His eyes were darting about, not settling on anything for more than a second. “He’s torturing him, he said he’s going to kill him- we’ve got to go, now.” There was absolute conviction in his voice. And yet, a nagging voice in the back of Hermione’s mind said a wizard as clever as Voldemort would have never let Arthur Weasley’s discovery slip past him. There was a _reason_ he had been taking Occlumency lessons…

“Harry. Look at me, Harry- how do you know this?”

“I _saw_ it- I fell asleep in the History OWL and then I had another vision-“

“But Harry, shouldn’t Occlumency make sure you _don’t_ see things like this?”

“Well, it’s good that it didn’t work then, isn’t it? Now _come on_ , we’re wasting time- we have to get to the Ministry!”

“Harry, mate,” started Ron, the uneasy look in his eyes echoing her own. “The Ministry is chock-full of Aurors.”

“And how did Voldemort even _get_ to the Ministry? And Sirius? They’re the most wanted wizards in all of Britain!”

“I DON’T KNOW- but it’s not important! We have to get there- NOW!”

“But Harry, it _is_ important. Because look, Voldemort _knows_ you, he knows you care about Sirius because Lucius Malfoy saw you together at King’s Cross and recognised him, and he knows you have a- a bit of a thing for acting before you think when something’s in danger.”

“So you’re saying I’m stupid and Sirius can rot? Hermione, SIRIUS IS BEING TORTURED, AND WE HAVE TO HELP HIM. NOW ARE YOU GOING TO BE MY FRIEND OR AM I GOING ON MY OWN?!”


	12. Chapter 12

Ron put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, well-meaning but utterly useless in getting him to calm down. “Maybe Hermione has a point, I mean, Dumbledore did say-“

“YEAH, WELL, DUMBLEDORE’S NOT HERE! NOW WE’RE GOING TO SAVE SIRIUS- COME _ON_!” He turned to run, but Hermione grabbed him around the arm. 

“ _Here’s_ what we’re going to do. First, we’re going to make _sure_ Sirius isn’t at headquarters.”

“But all the Floos are being tracked-“ Harry’s mental faculties were decidedly _not_ on their best day. 

“Use the two-way mirror Sirius gave you.”

“I’ll go with him to get it,” volunteered Ron, and Hermione was immensely grateful to her friend for understanding it was not the best idea to leave Harry on his own at the moment. 

“Great. I’m going to find Snape-“

“ _SNAPE_?” 

“Yes, Harry, Snape. If you haven’t noticed, Dumbledore and Mcgonagall are both elsewhere, which means Snape is the only member of the Order here. If Sirius _is_ there, we’ll need them.”

“Hermione, he hates Sirius-“

“He hates you as well, and he’s still saved your life every year. We’ll meet in the Great Hall when we’re done. Now do you want to waste time arguing with me, or make sure your Godfather is alright?”

Apparently that was all it took, because Harry was sprinting down the corridor to Gryffindor tower before she had even closed her mouth, Ron at his heels. A split second later, she was also running- in the opposite direction, towards Snape’s office. It would be first time she’d see him after the- the _healing_ , her mind supplied, but here were more important things at stake. 

She flung open the door, charging in, only to be greeted by a second-year Slytherin talking to her head of house. 

“Professor, there’s an emergency,” she declared without further ado, glaring at the little girl sitting in front of his desk, her meaning clear- _get her out_. 

“Knowing you Gryffindors, Miss Granger, it will come as a surprise if this emergency is more than Longbottom losing his toad. Nevertheless, the Headmaster would doubtless wish for me to hear his _prefect_ out.” Distaste coloured his features. “Miss Greengrass, if you would excuse us?” 

He waited until the door was firmly shut behind the girl and wards in place before becoming the man she knew from her detentions. 

“Yes? Is Potter alright?”

“Harry’s had another vision, he says Voldemort’s got Sirius; torturing him in the Department of Mysteries- he wants to _go there-_ “

“That _cannot_ be allowed-”

“Sirius gave him a two-way mirror, I sent him to go make sure he really isn’t at headquarters before he could storm off, but you need to alert the Order-“

“Is that all, Miss Granger?”

She nodded franticly. 

“I see. Where is Potter?”

“He’s with Ron. We’re going to meet in the Great Hall-“

“Go now. I shall alert the Order. Bring Potter and Weasley back here; tell them I was gone but you can use my Floo if you have to.”

She nodded, turned and ran- 

“Miss Granger!”

“Yes?”

“Godspeed.”

Harry and Ron were not in the Great Hall. For the agonizing moments she awaited their their arrival, Hermione dreaded they had gone, without her or protection, to the Department of Mysteries-

But then she saw the faces of her two friends, slack with relief, in the distance, and dashed to meet them. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione, you were right-“

“It’s all right, Harry, come on, we’ve got to go…”

If Harry and Ron were bewildered at why she was dragging them to the dungeons after they’d told her Sirius was fine, they didn’t mention it. Not after she’d _just_ been right. 

Snape was were she had left him, with the same purposeful look in his eyes. 

“Sit. I take it you have verified the whereabouts of your godfather, Potter?”

Harry nodded. “I just spoke to him, he’s at Grimmauld.” 

“Good. The Order has been notified and is entering the Ministry as we speak, as we have reason to believe Death Eaters have gathered there in anticipation of your arrival. I have spoken to the Headmaster, and he has agreed with me that it is time you know why the Dark Lord has been trying to gain access to the Department of Mysteries, or rather, _why_ he has tried to make you do it in his place.”

Hermione saw her friend’s face light up; _finally_ , she thought, _it’s about time they gave us reasons instead of just orders._

“ _However_ ,” Snape continued, “I will not be telling you.”

“ _WHAT?_ DUMBLEDORE TRUSTED YOU-“

“ _SILENCE,_ MR. POTTER! Dobby!”

With a _crack_ , the house elf that had almost gotten Harry expelled materialised out of thin air. 

“Master Snape called for Dobby?”

“Yes, Dobby, I want to apparate to Grimmauld place, and apparatus back with Sirius Black.”

“Yes, Master Snape.” And with another crack, he was gone. 

“Dobby knows about Grimmauld?” Ron asked, incredulous. 

“It does good to have allies from all factions of magic. Different rules apply to different species, as you know- or _should_ know. And yes,” Snape turned to face Harry, the venom returning to his eyes that had held fear for the boy, “ _Professor_ Dumbledore _does_ trust me. Because unlike _some_ of us, I follow his orders regardless of whether they are to my personal liking.”

The temperature in the dropped twenty degrees as Harry realised the man was right, and he’d been questioning his motives, and been wrong, _again…_

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Being _sorry_ has done very little for me in my life, Potter,” he snapped, and Hermione gulped. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “I concede that with your peculiar connection to the Dark Lord, it was almost impossible for you to implement Occlumency against him. What you _should_ be able to do, however, is use your brain. A wizard such as the Dark Lord would not let the incident surrounding Arthur Weasley pass him by, and he _knows_ you care for Black. Walking into the Dark Lord’s traps has only gotten people killed in the past.”

Harry looked at shoes, but the mood only lasted a couple of minutes, and then Dobby was back, Sirius with him. 

“Sirius!” It was Harry that had noticed him first, but soon Snape was the only one not glued to the convict as he wrapped his arms around the trio surrounding him. He may have been Harry’s godfather, but they all cared about him, and the relief they felt at having him with them, alive, whole, and untortured, was palpable. 

“If you are quite done,” snapped Snape, and Hermione was suddenly hit with the fact that Snape _was_ tortured, regularly, and no-one threw fits and tried to brake out of the castle to save _him_. Sorrow welled up inside her, her fingers twitching to find his and give even a bit of reassurance that someone did care about him. “There are things Potter needs to know.”

Sirius gave him a curt nod, and the two men looked at one another, their eyes holding something other than loathing for perhaps the first time. Then Sirius crossed the room in two strides and extended his arm. 

“Thank you for keeping Harry safe.”

The two shook hands, tight smiles on their faces. Three pairs of eyes watched them- only a year ago, Dumbledore had forced a handshake between the two, and it had lasted a grand total of two seconds. Now, there was something they could not understand going on between the two childhood enemies. 

“Sorry for being a prat to you at school.”

“There are more important things now.”

The two leaned against the front of Snape’s desk as their handshake came to an end. 

“Take a seat, you three.” Sirius’s voice was calm but grave. “Dumbledore’s at the Ministry as we speak. It’s time you knew why Voldemort chose Godric’s Hollow to attack that night.”


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione looked at Snape, whose eyes had returned to their blank state. She was positive Sirius didn’t know the whole story of why Voldemort had been at Godric’s Hollow- the scene she had just witnessed would have never happened otherwise. It was just as well; Harry didn’t need to know how Voldemort got part of the prophecy in the first place. It was unnerving how much she sounded like Dumbledore, but her friend had a penchant for acting on his temper that would do them no favours. The Order needed to be undivided. She watched Snape’s hands as Sirius told them about the Prophecy, white and tense, gripping the edge of his desk. By the time the Dumbledore entered with a soft knock and invited them all up to his office, she was almost in a trance. 

Half an hour later, six free Order members emerged from the Headmaster’s office. The Ministry, faced with overwhelming facts (like the appearance of half a dozen Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, who had apparently dueled with Dumbledore while the Order stormed the Department of Mysteries), had been forced to concede that Voldemort was back, whether they did anything about it or not. Dumbledore had apparently also been able to convince them that Sirius Black was innocent. Hermione supposed having scared of Voldemort must have done wonders for his credibility. 

Sirius, on the other hand, had been able to convince Dumbledore to induct them into the Order, picking up from where Snape left off in getting him to tell Harry about the prophecy. Harry was positively beaming. The only thing he hadn’t been thrilled about was that he still had to spend half his summer with the Dursleys, but Dumbledore had explained that there was work to be done on Headquarters that required it to be empty. After July, they would all be moving in to Grimmauld. Hermione couldn’t keep the smile off her face- things were better than they had been at the end of any other year, minus the little complication that was Voldemort. No-one was dead, for starters. Sirius was free. Harry had an adult who cared about him and could be there for him like family. And they were no longer being treated like children while taking the responsibilities of an adult. _If only Dumbledore could have been right in treating us as children… But Voldemort certainly won’t, so we can’t afford to act like it._

———————————————————————————————————————————

There was less than twenty four hours left until they would be leaving Hogwarts, and Harry and Ron were making the most of the weather and their freedom, playing quidditch. They had asked Hermione to join them, but flying made her feel nauseous. Instead, she had opted to walk around the Black Lake. It was so serene… She came to rest in the shade of a tree at the far end. She could see the Forbidden Forest stretched out before her, and the road to Hogsmeade… 

“Hermione.”

She whipped her head around. None of her friends said her name in that soft, silky way, and none of her professors used her name at all. Except…

“I never thanked you properly for saving me.”

“We never thanked you for saving us for five years.”

He smiled, offering her his hand to help her up. She accepted, releasing it once she was on her feet. 

“I’m glad you made up Sirius.”

“Like I said, there are more important things.” He looked at her, and there was something she couldn’t place in his gaze. “Am I correct in assuming you were the one that stopped Mr. Potter from storming the Ministry?”

She nodded. 

“He will need you. So will the Order.”

_Do_ you _?_ “I’ll be seeing you this summer, then?”

“Perhaps.”

“Ten weeks is a long time. Don’t be a stranger. Don’t-“ _get killed_. She stopped abruptly, causing him to crash into her. She seized his elbows to steady herself, taking a deep breath when she realised she wasn’t going to fall. They were so close- “Don’t get killed.” His grasp on her arms tightened. 

“I’ll do my best.”

His attempts at humour were not making her feel any better. “Take care of yourself. _Please._ ”

As if he couldn’t help it, he gathered her in his arms, and she shivered in his embrace. “Take care, Hermione.” And then he was gone, Hermione left looking over the Black Lake as billowing robes made their way away from her.   
———————————————————————————————————————————

“You wished to see me, Headmaster?”

“Yes, yes… Canary Cream?”

Severus shook his head. “Is this about Miss Granger?”

“Indeed. It seems… With magic as old as this, there are certain, shall we say, side effects that may come into play.”

“May? Or will?”

“Let’s say there is a high probability they _will_.”

“What _sort_ of side effects?”

“It is entirely possible that the next time she touches you, she will see the new additions to your, how shall we say, _life reel_ , without any conscious desire to do so.”

Severus rubbed his temples, his elbows resting on his knees. “So I am incapable of keeping secrets from her? What about Occlumency?”

“You are incapable of keeping _important_ secrets from her, ones that make an emotional impact. I do not imagine you will have any trouble concealing the colour of your socks.”

“I see.” A pause. “Will she lose consciousness again?”

“No. Severus, you do understand the importance of this? One touch from Miss Granger and we may have access to the plans of Voldemort’s Inner Circle.”

“You already have access to those plans. Besides, under no circumstances should she be allowed that near to any Death Eater. There is little the Dark Lord would not give to posses such a weapon.”

“Indeed. I was of course referring to the _personal_ plans of your brethren, but I agree with you that she should be protected.”

“How touching to see you not putting children at unnecessary risk for a change.”

“Now now, Severus… There’s no need to take that tone with me. Keep an eye on her, will you?”

The younger wizard kept his silence. 

“Now, there’s something else I wish to discuss-“


	14. Chapter 14

Summer with the Grangers was not the relaxing affair Hermione had been hoping for. It had been, however, the catalyst for some important revelations, not the least of which was that in all likelihood, she would not be going back to her childhood home until Voldemort was vanquished once and for all. While her parents could not fully appreciate the evilness or power Voldemort possessed, that he posed a threat to Hermione’s life was enough to make them want to pack up and move away. It _was_ the best bet they had for staying alive- but there was no power, magical or otherwise, that could make Hermione leave Harry and the Order. The _greater good_ was no longer an abstract concept. She would play her part, and if her life was on the line, then so be it. Jean Granger had not taken the news well. Not that it mattered at the moment- Hermione’s parents were halfway across the globe, with no memory of their daughter. Hugging Crookshanks closer to her, she sniffled as the Knight Bus made its way through London. There was still a week to go until she was expected at Grimmauld, but the “renovation” should be over by now, and she had nowhere else to go. The Weasleys were on holiday, so she couldn’t go to the Burrow, and Hogwarts was closed to students during the summer. 

“Hermione! This is a pleasant surprise- come in, come in!”

“Thanks, Remus. Is Sirius around?”

“He’s checking up on Harry as Snuffles, he should be home in a couple of hours. Do you want help with your trunk?”

“I’ll manage, thanks.”

Remus closed the door behind her, ushering her into the kitchen. The house didn’t seem to have changed much, besides being much less gloomy than she remembered. Someone had added charmed windows. 

“Sit down, I’ll put the pot on… You look exhausted, Hermione, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I thought the house would be different, Dumbledore said there’d be some work done…”

“Not much has changed in terms of cosmetics, I’m afraid. But I’ll show you around later, there are a couple of new floors, a makeshift greenhouse and a potions lab. And a proper meeting room. You won’t be getting Extendable Ears into this one. Not that you need to, any more…”

A cup of steaming fennel tea hovered in mid-air before her.

“The extra floors I understand, there’s going to be a lot more people staying here… but why a potions lab? Surely the one at Hogwarts-“

“Wolfsbane, Hermione.” He smiled gently. “Professor Snape is kind enough to brew it for me. And I understand Dumbledore has requested some… _other_ potions that it would not do to brew under the eyes of so many at Hogwarts.”

“Oh. Does- does Professor Snape brew here often?”

Remus quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “I don’t see much of him.” He paused, and Hermione fought not to squirm under his gaze. Remus Lupin was rapidly developing Dumbledore’s omnipotentness. “He’s in the lab all day. Just left, in fact.”

Hermione took a rather too large gulp of tea, scalding her tongue. “But it’s almost two in the morning!”

Remus shrugged. “Man’s on a mission, what can I say? I’d offer to show you around, but I’m not sure how he’ll take to me traipsing around his lab- he’s got more on wards on that place than his room. I wouldn’t know half of what he’s got in there, anyway.”

“His _room_? He’s _staying_ here?”

“Well, not all the time. He used to come and go every day, but Dumbledore was having none of it. Told him that he was under enough stress as it is without apparating on no sleep. So he’s around here around four nights a week, I’d say. Personally, I think Dumbledore just wanted to make sure Severus was feeding himself.”

“Smart man, Professor Dumbledore.”

“That he is. Now come on, let’s get you to bed.”

 _Internal clock be damned._ Hermione rolled over in bed, accepting defeat and throwing on some clothes to start breakfast. She’d woken up at six, and spent half an hour trying to go back to sleep. It was not to be. She supposed it was all for the best- there were few things as troublesome as a disrupted sleep schedule. 

Poking her head in the fridge, she was happy to see Sirius (or, more likely, his house elf) was keeping it well-stocked. Hermione was no Molly Weasley in the kitchen, but she did like to bake once in a while- and crepes were in order for her first morning at Grimmauld. As she slid the last of the batch from the pan to a plate, someone else slid into the kitchen. 

“Hermione! Remus told me you’d come yesterday, but I wasn’t expecting to see you up this early!”

Hermione snorted. It was quarter past seven by now- a wholly appropriate time to be out of bed. Sirius, however, who was still in his pajamas and robe, obviously did not subscribe to her point of view. 

“It’s good to see you too, Sirius. How are you? How’s Harry?”

“I’m fine. Harry… well, he’s _trying_ not to let the muggles get him down. I played fetch with him yesterday, growled at that Dudley and scared the living daylights out of him. Best fun I’ve had in a long time.”

“It’s nice to see how you’ve grown into such a mature adult, Pads.” Remus had taken his place at the table, and Hermione got out a plate for him. 

“So what’re your plans for the day?”

“I haven’t got any, really- do you two need help with anything?”

“I’m writing to werewolf packs,” said Remus. “Think I’m fine on my own.”

Sirius chuckled. “I’m cleaning out my old room. You might want to steer clear from the old top floor for a bit. I was _not_ a tidy teenager.”

That cued Remus’s turn to laugh. “Because you are a paragon of cleanliness now.”

Before Sirius could reply, however, their friendly banter was interrupted by the dark wizard who had just come in. 

Severus Snape looked as put together as always; mornings apparently held no power over the man. No stubble, no bed hair, no grogginess. He would have been perfectly normal- were he not dressed almost _muggle_. In the place of his usual billowing teaching robes were a black dress shirt and black slacks, over which he wore a thin robe of black silk. If the circumstances had been different, he could have been taken for any other man wearing a robe de chambre over his clothes. Without a word, he headed for the coffee pot. 

“Good morning, Severus” sing-songed the Marauders, having perfected their harmony through daily practice. Both were obviously immensely enjoying themselves. 

“Good morning, Lupin, Black.” His gaze came to rest on Hermione, who was in the middle of devouring her crepe. “Miss Granger.”

“Gmph Marnmph!” _Merlin, I sound like Ron._

“Have your puffapods matured, Severus?” inquired Remus. 

“Indeed. I shall be harvesting them today. There wouldn’t by any chance Kreacher knows how, would there, Black?”

Sirius shook his head. “Wouldn’t trust him with my flowerpots. Take Hermione, I’d wager she knows how to harvest puffapods. 

“I’m sure Miss Granger has important business of her own to attend to-“

“No, that’s alright. I- I’d like to help.”

“Very well. Meet me in the greenhouse.” He swept out of the room, and Hermione could imagine the billowing even though it wasn’t there-

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

“You haven’t had breakfast!”

Snape blinked as Remus fought the urger to snigger. Sirius had no such qualms. “Yeah, Severus, have breakfast with us!”

———————————————————————————————————————————

Harvesting puffapods was an endeavor best undertaken in silence- or so the potions master had told her. It suited her fine; the main thing on her mind was her parents, and she didn’t feel like talking about that decision just yet. 

Days at Grimmauld settled into an easy pace: rise, breakfast (Sirius made wonderful eggs), check on potions, visit greenhouse, brew. Dinner, talks by the fire, bed. It was all so _easy_. Between the secret-kept walls, Voldemort was a distant threat. Hermione could read, or pester Sirius for tales of his Hogwarts days (ones that didn’t involve a certain Slytherin), or stand over a potion to her heart’s content. There was something intangible that permeated the air of the lab, in the way Severus would brush her hair back (“Do _not_ contaminate the potion.”) or she would heal his cuts and burns (“Honestly, why can’t you value your fingers as much as your ingredients?”).

They were is the middle of grinding dried newt eyes when’s arm twitched. Hermione’s pestle clattered to the floor. 

“I must go. You are more than capable of preparing these ingredients yourself-“

She was, she knew, but for him to acknowledge it was something else entirely. 

“Thank-“

But he had already left.   
———————————————————————————————————————————

“Hermione?”

Hermione lifted her gaze from the boomslang skin she was shredding to see Remus standing at in the doorway. 

“Severus just sent a patronus- he’s reporting to Dumbledore now, but he’s fine. I thought you might want to know.”

Hermione didn’t want to know _why_ Remus thought she’s like to know- _because you care about him; he knows you’d want to know if it were Sirius or him._ She smiled at the thought of Severus sending a patronus- there was a part of her that she couldn’t quite quiet down that hoped it wasn’t for the Marauders’ benefit. 

“Thanks, Remus.”

“You really should get some rest, you know.”

“I know- let me just finish up here, and-“

“ _Now_ , Hermione.” He shot her one of his best no-nonsense, this-is-for-your-own-good, I-care-about-you looks. 

“Okay.”

But retire to her room though she might, Hermione refused to go to sleep. _This is stupid. He might not even come back here tonight. What if he decides to stay at Spinner’s End?_ Nose buried in _Hogwarts, A History_ (it wasn’t as if her brain would be able to process any new information at the moment), she lept to her feet as a soft knock sounded on her door. 

Severus had already shed his robes. Now, he lifted up his shirt in absolute silence, exposing the dark bruises that were rapidly forming. Following his lead in the aversion of words, Hermione guided him to her bed. 

“ _Facilitate sanitatem_.”

She trailed a hand along his ribs, his neck, his jaw; he rose, and they were suddenly _so_ close-

“I’m proud of you. For seeking medical care for once.”

His lips were on hers, soft, unassuming-

“I came for _you_.”

“Oh.”

And then her hands were in his hair, soft and silky, her thumb brushing his temple as he tangled the fingers of one hand in her hair, the other resting beside her ribcage, supporting her as a flame licked its way around her veins, her lips opening to let him in. It was like someone had lit a fire within her- and then he was withdrawing, more gentle now, until he came to rest his forehead against hers, their noses touching. 

“Hermione.”

“Severus.” She saw his eyes close as if in slow motion, then open again to reveal pools of emotion like she’d never seen before. 

“Say it again- please. _Please_.”

“Severus. Severus. _Severus_.”

He rested his chin on the top of her head, lips caressing her curls. 

“It’s really going to start now, isn’t it? The war?”

“Yes.”


	15. Chapter 15

Harry and Ron’s arrival had been like a bucket of cold water. Gone were the peaceful meals or cups of tea they shared, mulling over Shakespeare and Neruda. The lab was still a refuge, away from prying eyes and inopportune questions, but the rest of Number 12 Grimmauld Place was fast living up to its title of as the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.   
———————————————————————————————————————————

He hadn’t come to her. For the first time in months, he hadn’t seen her once he was back. He hadn’t even gone to a Death Eater gathering, it was a meeting with Dumbledore, at Hogwarts of all places, probably about lesson plans or something… _So why haven’t you come back to me?_ Worrying was getting her nowhere. Slipping out of her room, she made her way up a flight of stairs and to the mahogany door that she had crossed so many times. She lifted her hand, caressing the wood as it opened to let her through. 

The room was dark and deathly still. Hermione let her eyes roam over the sparse furniture, the few personal effects, before settling on the object of her affections: hunched over on the side of the bed, hands gripping his hair, elbows resting on his knees, tension radiating from him like heat from a fire. She reached out her hand to place it on his shoulder-

“Don’t touch me."

_Don’t touch me?_ She removed her hand only to try and rest it on his cheek, but even as she drew close, his hand shot up and caught her wrist.

“Severus…”

“No.”

She wrenched her arm from his grip, and as it slipped through his hand, her fingers caught on his, their skin touching for the first time that night.

_“Why on earth did you even put it on? The ring is obviously cursed… I cannot stop it, merely slow the progression…”_

_And then she saw Dumbledore’s hand, black and shriveled…_

_“The Dark Lord has tasked Draco Malfoy with your murder.”_

_“And if he fails, you are to complete his assignment?”_

_“Yes. Narcissa and Bellatrix-“_

_“You must be the one to kill me, Severus. We both know Draco is no murderer- and to kill me in cold blood would destroy his soul.”_

_“And what of_ my _soul?”_

_“You alone know what granting a fast and painless death to a dying, suffering man will do to your soul.”_

_Silence, clenched fists, laboured breaths._

_“Take the Unbreakable Vow they will ask of you, Severus.”_

“Hermione? What did you see? Hermione?”

“Dumbledore.”

“Hermione…”

She shook her head, burying her face in his chest as tears streamed down her cheeks. His arms came up around her, his head laid on top of hers, his nose touching the wild tangles as silent tears sprang from his eyes. It could have been an eon that they held each other, lower limbs tangled in the bedding, pressed so close together they could be one. She couldn’t feel the tension in his arms, the grip of his hands on her skin, was too numb to; he didn’t register the jackhammering of her heart.

When she emerged from the room hours later, face red and splotchy and hair flying everywhere, neither spoke. Remus didn’t comment as they passed in the corridor, Sirius didn’t say anything when he came to wake her in the morning and she was laying on the bed, perfectly still, eyes open and watching the ceiling.  
———————————————————————————————————————————

Term had begun. Term had progressed. It was inevitable, really- time got on with its business whether or not everyone else did. Whether or not she was still brewing for the Order (whether), whether or not she could look at the professor at Defense Against the Dark Arts (not), whether Harry had developed an unhealthy obsession with Malfoy she knew had to end for Dumbledore’s plan to play out (whether), whether or not she was herself (not).

“I _know_ Malfoy’s up to something serious-“

“Harry, if I hear another thing about Draco bloody Malfoy, I’m going to hex you to bits!”

“What’s gotten into you, Hermione?! You haven’t been yourself all year- for all we know Draco tried to kill Katie Bell-“

“You don’t understand-“

“HE’S PROBABLY ALREADY A DEATH EATER-“

“Dumbledore-“

“DUMBLEDORE’S GOT ENOUGH ON HIS PLATE, HERMIONE, IF YOU’D JUST LISTEN TO ME-“

“HE’S _DYING_ , HARRY!” Hermione sank into the armchair, trembling, as silence enveloped the empty classroom Harry had dragged Ron and her into.

“ _What_?”

“Dumbledore’s dying.”

“Malfoy… he wasn’t after Katie, was he? It’s Dumbledore…”

“But Malfoy could never overpower Dumbledore,” interjected Ron.

Hermione shook her head. “Dumbledore has a plan. Go ask him, Harry. He’s going to have himself killed by the end of the year. And tell him I _know_ , and I know what he’s doing to a soul he takes for granted.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then Harry banged shut the door, tearing down the corridor, Ron slammed his fist on a desk before coming to hold her, and Hermione buried her face in her hands, letting what she’d just done sink in.  
———————————————————————————————————————————

“I talked to Dumbledore.”

“Did he deny it all?”  
Harry shook his head. “Got past that part rather quickly when I started smashing up his office in a rage. Not the easiest conversation I’ve had in my life.”

“What did he say?”

“Enough to make me not hate the whole of Slytherin with vehemence.”

“So Malfoy…”

“Kid’s got it tough. But Dumbledore made me promise to lay off his case.”

“And will you?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess. I won’t have much time to anyway. He put me on something else- Horcruxes.”

“Horcruxes?”

“I’ll tell you later, when Ron’s with us. Really, really dark magic.”

“And what about- you know…”

“Snape? My first instinct was to cast a few Unforgivables myself, but it’s not as though he’s got much of a choice- especially if we’re going to win this war.”

Hermione smiled, blinking back the tears. _You’ve done enough crying for a while._

“Hermione, can I ask you something? You’re my friend and I would never want to stand in the way of your happiness- is there something going on between you two?”

_It sure is a day for revelations._ “The short answer- yes.”

“What’s the long answer?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Hermione… I never thought _I’d_ be giving _you_ relationship advice, but maybe you should _talk_ to him.”

“Harry, the last time I spoke to the man was when I realised what he had to do.”

“Exactly. Look, Dumbledore showed me that memory in the pensieve, and it was like he was telling Snape his soul wasn’t worth anything. Dumbledore made me see things have to be done to make sure Voldemort is gone for good this time, but if someone made me promise to kill them and then Ginny left me-“

“I didn’t _leave_ anybody! It’s he who-“

“I know you wouldn’t walk out on a friend you believed in, Hermione. But does he?”  
———————————————————————————————————————————

“Hermione.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here? It’s after curfew-“

“I won’t get caught. Harry lent me his cloak.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed as Hermione closed the door to his chambers behind her. “Potter knows you’re here?”

Hermione nodded. “He knows about Dumbledore, too.”

“Goddamnit, Hermione-!”

“Shh.” She settled beside him on the bed. “He understands.” The duvet was soft beneath her legs. “ _I_ understand.”

His eyes scrunched together, then relaxed as she pressed her palm to his cheek.

“How can you still bear to touch me? Knowing what I’ve done, what I’ll do? Knowing who I am?”

She didn’t reply, instead bringing her mouth to his. These kisses made no pretense of chasteness- she felt her whole body flush as he pulled her to straddle his lap, heat growing between them as he rolled them over-

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Her name was a chant on his lips as he rocked into her, so, so gentle and yet incredibly intense all at once, making her gasp, tighten, and then she was gripping him with every atom in her body as every nerve she had fired at once, taking him along with her-

“I love you.”

She hadn’t meant to make him cry, had no idea her words would hold such power over him, and then-

“I don’t know if I’ll survive this war.”

“I know.”

“I will never be a pleasant man.”

“I know.”

“Hermione…”

“Shh. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm not exactly happy with this chapter, but it's how things turned out. The next chapter will be the epilogue, but I may consider doing a sequel some time in the future- let me know what you think :)


	16. Epilogue

Hermione’s hand flew to her wand with the knock on her door. Voldemort had been dead for three months, defeated at the final battle, but the Aurors were still picking up the surviving Death Eaters, and there had been a few minor attacks. Whoever it was at her cottage door, it couldn’t be one of her classmates- she had just been with them at Harry and Ginny’s engament party, and most of them were bound to be still celebrating. Her parents were lost to her, somewhere in Australia- had an ambitious Death Eater eager to fill Tom Riddle’s shoes found out where she lived? It sure as hell wasn’t a _door-to-door salesman_ , not in this downpour. The sky was positively black- it suited her mood quite well. 

It shouldn’t have. Voldemort was gone once and for all, her best friend was getting engages, the Hogwarts rebuilding was coming along nicely, _all was well_ … Except that it felt so _wrong_ to be going about her daily life without him, not even being able to bury him… When they had returned to the Shrieking Shack, there was a good deal of blood, new and old, but no body. One could bury blood. She had been hopeful, at first- perhaps he was, through some miracle, still alive. But after three months and no word, even a Gryffindor couldn’t dare hope. 

Crookshanks meowled at the door, clawing at the wood, and Hermione shooed him away, ever so slightly opening the door. Within a second, she had her wand pointing at the man’s neck.

“Who are you?”

“Hermione…”

“This is a low, cruel trick, so before I demonstrate just why the Unforgivables are called that, tell me-“

“The muggles patched me up, then Pomfrey put me in isolation”

“Prove it. Tell me something only Severus Snape would know.”

“You have a star-shaped mole on your left hip.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he tugged at the bandages on his neck “At least, I assume that’s something only I would know. I- I understand, if…”

Her wand went flying ( _Moody would murder me if he knew_ ) as she pulled him inside and crushed herself to him.

“I thought you were dead!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You could have _called_ -“

“I’m sorry.”

“How did you know _I_ wasn’t dead?”

He drew in a shuddering breath. “I didn’t. It almost drove me mad.”

“Serves you right! You- you- I want to murder you myself!”

What little colour there was drained from his face.

“I see. I’m sorry to have disturbed you-“

She pulled him back before he could reach the door, taking his face in her hands, stroking the scarred flesh on his jaw. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I though I’d lost you forever…”

He screwed his eyes shut. “You almost did. But I had promises to keep. About trying my best to not get killed.”

“I’m glad you kept that promise.”

He didn’t say anything, just let her lead him to the bed, where they curled up, content to bask in each others presence. She took her hand in his, tracing his fingers with her fingertips.

“You still have your brewing scars.”

“Mmmh.”

Peeling back his shirtsleeve, she let her hands and then her lips caress the pale skin, kissing the scars where the Dark Mark had once been.

“No- don’t-“

“Will you stay?”

He nodded, hesitant, like a cat waiting to be turned out. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out. And then she was pressed against him as he buried his nose in her hair, his cheek resting on the top of her head.

“There’s something else only I know” he whispered. “And I- I don’t want to be the only one to know it anymore, but I understand if-“ A gulp. “You have your whole life ahead of you-“ A labored breath. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Prickling eyes.

Love.

 _Fin_.


End file.
